


The Great Feels War of 2012

by Ruffiticus (orphan_account), Tricksterburd



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Angst, Blind Character, Character Death, Tags to come as needed, War, blind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-13 07:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Ruffiticus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tricksterburd/pseuds/Tricksterburd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Co-written with Ruffy of Tumblr.  Serif and Ruffy try to out-feels each other with each story/chapter.  Angst all up in this place.  Each chapter has it's own title and summary.  When Ruff gets an account they'll be added as a co-author.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Last

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter one: Last.  
> Written by Serif.  
> Summary: Sam and Steve retired once they were old enough. Their positions were never refilled. “You don’t replace family.” Rabbit had said once when Spine suggested finding new humans to repair them.

Peter Walter the fifth never made it to old age. Sixty eight is oldish, but not really old.  Annie didn’t survive much longer once her husband had passed on, leaving the manor and the Walter name to their son, Peter Walter the sixth.  He had already taken over the legacy, so not much had really changed.  Except for, well, two missing people under the home’s roof.

Wanda and Norman survived a bit longer, lasting into their nineties before they, too, passed on.  Leaving Peter alone with the robots and the three humans who had been “hired” to maintain them.  It wasn’t that Peter didn’t like the robots.  Far from it.  It was more along the lines of a mind that had other ideas, and no longer wished to build on old ones.  He always saw them as family, they had helped raise him and were just as essential to the household as air.  But that was just it.

It didn’t feel right to be elbow deep in your uncle when he decided the wrapper of a hamburger was better to eat than the hamburger itself, and the paper got caught in his gears.  So instead of working on the robots himself, he hired two guys.  Michael was already a package deal with the house.  True, he still had to pay the Reed family, but it wasn’t something that anyone even noticed anymore.  Michael was born and raised in the house right along with Peter, but oddly enough it never seemed to bother him that he was opening up three people that would take turns raising him.  Sam and Steve, never so much a problem.  Outsiders were useful.

Peter Walter the sixth never had his own children.  He never married.  Something about the wooden mask, perhaps.  Or just that he was very tied to his own work at the manor and rarely left.  Whatever the reason, once he had passed away at a very old age, no one carried the name Walter besides the robots themselves.

Michael wasn’t the last Reed to ever exist.  His name was carried on by two very lovely, very strong, children.  They, however, did not continue their work at the manor once their father died.  Jon had been broken up over Michael’s death, his passing much like that of their father’s Peter Walter the first’s.  At a wonderful age of eighty nine, in his sleep after watching a perfect performance by his best friends.  His children had their own lives to live.  The robots understood this, and never once held it against them.  They sent Christmas cards to each other until, eventually, Michael’s children had their own children and went to their own restful sleep in the earth. 

Sam and Steve retired once they were old enough.  Their positions were never refilled.  “You don’t replace family.”  Rabbit had said once when Spine suggested finding new humans to repair them.  

The Jon had been the first of the Steam Man Band to expire.  The various robots and androids and blue matter creations around the manor came and went as time went on, but The Jon’s space in their lives was felt hard and fast.  Crystal Pepsi had ran out long before Michel had children, and now that all their humans were long gone he had very little to hold out for.  He had tried, for the longest time, to hold on.  Stretching his reserves, powering down earlier and earlier every night, powering on later and later every morning, just so he’d last another day.  But, eventually, his systems couldn’t try any longer.

They had sat with him, on the couch in the video room, watching the sunset.  Spine on one side, Rabbit on the other.  They had all talked for a while, thought on the days that had gone by, the fun times they had had, the friends that they’d never forget.  They avoided the wars, wanting to make sure that the last thing Jon did was smile.  But as the sun vanished into the purple black of night, so, too, did The Jon vanish from his brother’s lives. 

They left him on the couch, letting the sunset paint his golden face every night through the un-curtained window.  The ‘bot loved being outside to see the colors of the world, to dance in the rain, to run in the wind, more than anything else in his long long life.  After almost three hundred years, neither Rabbit nor The Spine had the heart to take that away from him.

The Spine had always prided himself on keeping as up-to-date as he could.  Upgrades, adjustments, changes, replacements.  In the end, that’s what kept him from working properly.  In the 1800’s, everything was locally made.  Peter the first had created the robots from his own hands, with his own materials, with his own judgment in strength.  But as the robots grew older, as parts wore out, pieces needed to be replaced.  Spine was always the first to volunteer. 

Material was becoming lighter and lighter.  Steel and iron turned to aluminum and tin, titanium became chrome plated zinc.  Plastic was the choice of all casings and gears, steam lines replaced with hydraulics.  Parts were cheaper to replace, but also cheaper in quality.  The air cushion disks in his beloved spine were falling apart, only to be replaced with thinner plastic that would break faster than they could be repaired. 

It was harder and harder for him to move, more difficult to play the faster songs.  He would over heat quickly, sometimes shut down without warning as lean wires snapped with an over stretched neck.  Eventually, his blue matter couldn’t keep him running any longer.  It just wasn’t compatible with any modern day technology without a Walter to maintain it.  Rabbit found him sitting besides The Jon, watching the sun set as he spoke calmly to the brass shell that had once been their youngest brother.

“Everyone misses you, you know.”  Rabbit sat on the other side of Jon, just as he had the night Jon had died.  Spine looked from the window to Rabbit, still talking to the lifeless one between them. 

“And by ‘everyone’ I mean Rabbit and me.  There isn’t anyone else.”  Rabbit reached a hand over Jon’s lap, taking Spine’s now that the silvery limbs couldn’t move on their own. 

“It’s a nice sunset Jon.  You’d like it.  The clouds are coming in, marine layer.  Some things just don’t change no matter how many years go by.  You described it once, didn’t you?  Blue ribbons in an apple sky.”  Spine was shaking, his voice wavering in fear of the unknown that was about to reach him.  Rabbit couldn’t find anything to say.  So he simply wrapped his younger brothers in a tight hug, trying to pretend that everything would be okay.

“The clouds are so red Jon.  Like an apple from our orchard.  Let’s go there tomorrow Jon, how does that sound?  It’ll be apple season by now, we can make cider and butter and pies.  I know you like apple pie.”  The Spine rambled on through the sunset, and into the night.  Rabbit only let go when Spine stopped speaking.  The green eyes were blank, empty, dark.  Spine was gone, resting his head on Jon’s shoulder, one hand gripping the brass hand, the other limp on Jon’s lap, waiting for another hand to join it.  Rabbit rose from the couch, leaving the room that held his closest siblings. 

The manor had a way of rearranging itself when you weren’t looking.  Perhaps it moved.  Perhaps you just weren’t paying attention when you walked and wound up lost in the winding halls.  However it worked, Rabbit only knew that in no time at all, he was in the front foyer, running those skinny needle fingers through the blanket of dust that covered the banister. 

The world had changed so much around him.  And he had refused to join it.  It had saved him, really.  “They don’t make things like they used too” was an old saying that rang true.  Jon had been changed, and it had taken him first.  Spine had changed, trying to fight the hands of time, and he was gone too.  Rabbit was easy.  His blue matter kept him thinking, his boiler kept making steam so he could move, his clockwork gears kept him from stopping.  Just a little upkeep on the gears, some patches on the boiler, a refill of water, and he could go forever. 

Forever.

Forever was a long time.  He wouldn’t mind, going on forever, seeing the world change and humans learn and grow over time.  But he was the last one.

The last…

There were no other robots in the house.  Everyone had died, had left, had fallen apart, had outlived their usefulness.  Rabbit was the oldest, the first created after the giant giraffe.  And now he was the last.  Simple mechanics.  He had been yelled at time and time again because he had refused upgrades.  Had wanted to keep to Peter’s original design.  And look where it had gotten him.

Creaky knees that hurt all the time.  A misfiring piston that would make his head jerk.  And a vast empty loneliness that being the sole survivor brought. 

“You’ll live forever m’boy.”  Pappy had told him once.  Peter the first had been sick in his late fifties, no one was sure if he’d pull through.  Rabbit had sat with him until he was healthy again.  “You’ll live forever and see the world.  You’ll see the human race as I could only dream.”

At the time, it had been exciting.  Living forever, seeing everything.  What a blessing!

Now, now Rabbit knew better.  Only those that know of their own mortality think of living forever to be a gift.  The real gift was being able to die.  Knowing that you were able to die.  It made you aware that every day could be your final one, and made you treasure every second.  Rabbit had lived for so long, had seen so much pain and death, and was unable to erase even one thought.  He didn’t treasure anything that was in his hard drive, not anymore.

He thought back on his time with Pappy, with Peter and Peter after the twins were born.  The adventures and misadventures he and his brothers had.  The concerts, the adoring fans that he had watched grow from children to adults to grandparents.  He thought on Jon’s smile, on Spine’s sass, and didn’t think much of them.

How could they be special?  They were something he’d see every day, forever.

Only…  
Only now, he couldn’t.  Because they were no longer there.  They wouldn’t happen anymore.  They only existed in his memories. 

And with that thought, they became so very very precious to him.  Seeing the next day didn’t seem all that important.  There was no warm hug from Pappy, no teasing from his human brother Peter the second, no rough housing with his human brother Peter the third.  No raising young Wanda and Peter the forth.  No elbows to the ribs from Sam, or scoldings from Michael, or repairs from Steve.  No more baking cookies with Annie, no more shopping with Miss. Tonia. 

No more magical happenings with Jon.  No more writing music with Spine.

Rabbit was alone.  And there was nothing else in his life that would happen that would be note worthy.  From now, until forever. 

Rabbit found himself sitting beside Jon once more.  Holding the brass hand, holding the aluminum hand.  His brothers.  His family.  The ones that stayed with him even as the world ended in one war after another.  The ones that stayed with him even as his heart killed the their human family in a freak explosion.  The ones that stayed with him even as the manor

slowly

Stopped. 

The sun was rising.  The world outside was a light grey in the dawning light.  The clouds from the night before had left, leaving only a scattered few lazily gliding through the clear air.  Although the sun was rising behind him, Rabbit could see the start of bright light hitting the trees in the distance.  The earth would be bathed in golden light, full of a new day and new life and new hope.  Rabbit smiled to himself.  Jon liked sunsets because of their colors.  Spine liked sunsets because of the stars that would come soon after.  Rabbit, Rabbit liked sunrises.

They were the promise of a new start. 

When the sun finally breached the top of the horizon, the last Walter creation ceased to exist. 


	2. Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Space was wonderful. It was supposed to be wonderful, actually, is what they’d all said. It was supposed to be wonderful, but the amount of pollution and “threat” of an alien population had scared the human race into not exploring the vastness of the universe. Robots! they’d said. Robots were the answer! Of course you could send robots into space, what was the harm in that? There was none, of course, because they’re robots that can’t feel, how could anything bad come from this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Ruffy on Tumblr. http://ruffiticus.tumblr.com/post/30640967740/fic-space  
> Author’s note: Man, I’ve wanted to do something like this for a while now. And no I was not listening to Fire Fire all day what are you talking about. #TW: Lies
> 
> They will be added as an author when they get to make an account. We're waiting in line.

Space was wonderful. It was supposed to be wonderful, actually, is what they’d all said. It was supposed to be wonderful, but the amount of pollution and “threat” of an alien population had scared the human race into not exploring the vastness of the universe. Robots! they’d said. Robots were the answer! Of course you could send robots into space, what was the harm in that? There was none, of course, because they’re _robots_ that can’t _feel,_ how could anything bad come from this?

–

It had been two hundred years since the project had been launched. The Spine, The Jon, and Rabbit had all been shot into space in different pods, despite what they’d plead and begged for. Robots can’t feel emotion, it was obviously a trick to try and sabotage the launch all those years ago. The latter most of the three had burned up during lift-off, his space shuttle erupting into flames as they all hit the stratosphere during ascension. The panicked screams from his shuttle soon died out, though, as his boiler ran out of steam and his battery melted. The core was what killed him, though, the core of blue energy glowing brightly in his chest. It had exploded and vaporised everything around him, including his own chassis. The Jon wouldn’t stop crying for years as he replayed that audio clip over and over again in his head, always seeking The Spine’s deep voice and smooth singing for comfort.

The Jon was a funny case. He could still be silly, and he could still make jokes, but it was like he would lapse and forget what had happened all those years of being in space. They all used to joke about Space Madness on stage, thinking it was just made up and fake, but after hearing some of the things The Jon had to say, The Spine was starting to second guess himself on that front. The Jon would go days with only repeating the same few words over and over again at varying intervals, a manic bout of laughter usually following each repetition. It was on six September, two-thousand one hundred that he’d given his last bout of giggles and started to sob profusely, getting angry at himself and starting to rip at the walls. The Spine spent The Jon’s last hours curled up by the monitor, singing softly with an oil-slicked face as his brother went completely insane and spent the last of his energy trying to get out of that prison they’d locked him in. The Jon’s last words, you ask?

“I hope they burn, Spine. I hope every last human burns.” The little brasold robot was very out of character, and with that, he was _very_ angry. The Spine couldn’t respond to his younger brother, and instead continued to sing softly. The Jon fell into stasis for the last time with the words of Michael’s song “Make Believe” in his head. It was only right.

The Spine himself wasn’t subject to any of the whiles of space. He was lonely, yes, so lonely. He often openly sobbed because what was the _point_ of going on when the only people you’d ever cared for longer than a blink of your eye were dead and you couldn’t ever get them back? No, he continued existing because out there floated The Jon’s body, and out there were the particles of his elder brother, and out there someone cared for him. Someone had to care for him, otherwise they wouldn’t let him be out here, right?

The Spine still made daily reports to the Houston base, still reported everything he found, because someone had to be listening, someone had to still be running the project to find new life. Every day he would add to the end of his message, “I haven’t found any life out here, noble humans. It would be a shame to waste me- I can work on Earth. May I please come home?” He would never get an answer, of course. The humans must be busy, so busy that they hadn’t checked their voicemail in- Oh, gosh, it had been nearly two hundred years. Oh, they must be _very_ busy.

As the next few years dragged on, The Spine found it getting hotter and hotter. One good look out his window told him why: He was heading directly for Sol. The distressed calls he sent from his pod stretched on for the entire year on Earth, and the last one went a little something like this:

“I’ve lost my big brother. I’ve lost my little brother. I’ve lost my Pappy and all my human siblings. I’ve lost my friends and all my girlfriends. And now I can chalk something else I’ve lost because of humans: I’ve lost my own life.” The line went static, and off in the distance, past the green-grey clouds of smog, a little blip appeared in the sun. That was the last anyone ever heard of the robots named Walter.


	3. Silent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only one that knew for sure was Rabbit. But it was his secret that he wasn’t sharing. He wasn’t sharing much of anything with anyone, really. (Serif's turn.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own SPG. Listen to this while reading: http://queen-honeybee.tumblr.com/post/30622468780/honeybee-without-rabbits-vocals-by-steam

It had been a freak accident.  That’s what the media was calling it.  The truth, though, it wasn’t an accident.  Not to those who saw it. Strike of fate maybe; but not an accident.

The road had been closed all morning.  The street faire was going strong with booths lining the curbs, street performers on every corner earning a pretty penny for a change, balloons and music and even a petting zoo, all filled to the brim with excited San Diego residents.  There was even to be a small parade at the end of the evening. 

Peter Walter the sixth rarely left the house.  He enjoyed watching his robots perform, but otherwise was pretty much a shut in.  It wasn’t that he disliked people, exactly.  He just had better things to do at home.  Like work on Blue Matter.  One just does not take work on Blue Matter lightly.  But today was a different day.  His robots were performing, the world was having fun, the sun was shining.  It was nice to leave the house some times.  But that didn’t mean he was going to be alone.  When Peter left the house he typically took one of the main robots with him.

Today, between sets, it was Rabbit.  The copper automaton was rambling on and on about some great booth he had seen with these little fairy candle holders when it happened.  A van, blue some would say, others swore it was green, flew out of a side street that had been sealed off for the day.  Rabbit had seen it, barely.  Just quickly enough to shove Peter the sixth out of the way.

The van crashed into Rabbit, sending him to the ground shrieking in the odd pain a robot could actually feel; sensors flaring, warnings blaring, oil spraying and staining the pavement.  Peter scrambled to his friend’s side, sweeping his jacket sleeves out of the way as he knelt to ascertain the extent of the damage.  Rabbit could barely move, a large chunk of his back having ripped away when he had been hit, exposing torn wires and severed oil lines.  The side of his face had been caved in, blue eye nothing but glass on the asphalt.  His left hand, the one that had pushed Peter clear, was twisted and gnarled into an unrecognizable hunk of metal.

The van threw itself into reverse.  Peter didn’t stand a chance.  The mirror clipped the side of his head as the vehicle backed through the crowd and disappeared around a corner.  The young genius went down without a sound. 

The official report stated that Peter A. Walter the sixth died on impact; broken neck.  Spine and Jon didn’t know for sure, they truly hoped this was the case.  They had seen long painful deaths.  It was not something they wished on anyone, let alone family.  The only one that knew for sure was Rabbit.  But it was his secret that he wasn’t sharing.  He wasn’t sharing much of anything with anyone, really.

They couldn’t find it in them to shut him down, even as an act of mercy.  Rabbit had seen terrible things in his time, they all had.  But it had never so thoroughly broken one of them before.  They had repaired him as best they could; reconnected the wires and lines in his back to give him control of his legs once more, banged out the dents in his chest plates, re-sculpted the side of his head.  They even straightened out the fingers, though his dexterity and movement of his fingers were now very limited.  He had refused to put in a new optic. 

He also refused to speak to anyone.  Rabbit didn’t talk anymore. 

The Jon had tried, had offered him candy and sandwiches and all manner of adventures and ideas.  But Rabbit simply ignored him.  The Spine had tried to comfort the robot, and when that failed tried threatening him.  Rabbit ignored him as well. Michael had checked his vocalizer, had run a full diagnostic on his language centers, even removed and reinstalled his jaw.  Nothing was wrong with his hardware, Rabbit just didn’t want to talk anymore.  No songs, no puns, no random words that made no sense. 

Just silence. 

They would perform for a while longer, Rabbit playing his instruments when he was needed, or dancing when it was called for.  But the songs without his harmony just didn’t sound the same anymore.  His dances were lackluster, often ending in him just staring out into the audience until someone gently led him off stage.

Rabbit was no longer his bouncy self.  Whatever happened there, on that pavement, was not what was reported.  And Rabbit wasn’t letting anyone know the truth. 

So after a while, they stopped performing.  And Rabbit spent more and more time “feeding the ducks” in the family cemetery.  It was there, at the graves of Peter the first, second, third, and sixth, that he ever spoke when he thought he was totally alone.  He either never heard Spine and Jon as they spied on him, or ignored them. 

“I miss you.”  “I’m sorry.”  “I failed you all.”  “Sometimes I wish I c-c-could time travel.”

Samples of what Rabbit would murmur to the stones.  Never enough for the others to understand what was going on, not fully.  But enough to know that what Rabbit needed wasn’t time, but help.  The only problem was getting the stubborn automaton to accept it and open up.

In time, Spine had assured the household, Rabbit would be back to normal.  He just didn’t know what time that was.  Rabbit knew they worried about him.  He knew they wanted to help.

But they hadn’t been there.

They weren’t there to hear Peter’s last words as he died on that horrific day.

They’d never understand how much of a failure you feel to watch a person you helped to raise as your own child die.

And, Rabbit hoped, they would never have too. 


	4. Last Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruffy's entry. Author’s Note: So, this is based off that first fic I did for the Feels War, focused solely on last words (which is why Spine didn’t get a portion.) Also it’s ten AM and time for feels because I said so

“Rabbit, are you sure you want to wear that?” chuckled The Spine, referring to his elder brother’s rather flamboyant choice in headgear.

“Yeah! I like it, an’ I’m _sure_ tha fans’ll love it!” he said, puffing out the rainbow coloured wig a bit with all seriousness in his face.

“Okay, but I really don’t know why you’d wear it to the gig where we’re supposed to be _antiques_ for the fans. Our shows at that one rodeo are more suited for that wig, don’t you think?” Rabbit grumbled things about The Spine being absolutely no fun, and The Jon sat and laughed at the entire spectacle his older brothers were making of themselves. The Spine saw his younger brother and gave a silly smile, messing up The Jon’s wig as the brasold bot erupted into another peal of laughter.

—

“…abbit. Rabbit. Rabbit, come on, it won’t be so bad!” came the very distant voice of The Spine. The copper bot snapped back into attention of the now and shook off the memory he’d dived into to protect himself from the matter at hand. He was currently getting shoved into that horridly small and empty space pod, having been told that he’d be flying alone. With a huff of steam, the oil on his face being slicked anew with more of the same substance, Rabbit rushed forward and pulled his two brothers into a hug.

“When we get ba-ack,” he stuttered, wiping the oil off on his sleeve, “We are havin’ tha biggest ice cream party evah. No exceptions.” The Jon nodded eagerly, Rabbit wiping the tears that had formed in the smallest bot’s eyes with the greatest of care. The Spine nodded as well, much less enthusiastically due to his “mature brother” stance, but Rabbit gave him a smile and wiped even The Spine’s frightened tears away. “I love you both.” And he was met with words of the same regard.

After the teary goodbye, Rabbit willingly climbed into the pod, saying some last regards to the humans in the base before the lid dropped shut.

It was small in the pod; small and lonely and singular. That’s what it was, it was singular. Rabbit didn’t like singular things- they made him feel alone, and that was a feeling he never had liked; nothing liked feeling alone.

He was startled by the shaking of the pod as they were prepared for lift off. Riding in cars was difficult for Rabbit, as he didn’t like the feeling of not moving when he really was, but this was something completely out of bounds for him. He pressed the transmitter button after dialing the code for The Spine’s pod, pleased when he got an answer.

“This is scarin’ me, I don’ like it.”

“It’ll be okay, Rabbit. Just… Find a memory again, get lost in it. We’ll be in orbit before you know it.” The words were comforting enough for Rabbit to nod and say a thank you before signing off the airwaves to sit back and pick out a memory. He was so focused on picking one out that he hadn’t noticed them taking lift off, and he was much too preoccupied to notice the beeping coming from the control panel. It was so hard to pick a memory and Rabbit was so focused that he didn’t even notice the rise in temperature.

When the vessel blew up, both of his younger brothers yelled and screamed in fear, shock, and emotional turmoil. Rabbit had four seconds to record his last words, as the small chip in his head that dealt with emergency shut offs survived, and this was what he’d recorded:

“Spine, Jon, what happened? I-I-I was jus’ tryin’ ta remembah somethin’, where am I? Are you guys okay?” And then it cut. When the chip was recovered back down on Earth, it was sent to the Manor to be representing of Rabbit’s body for his funeral.

–

Years after that incident- eighty eight and three months, The Spine noted- and The Jon had gotten much worse. Just the day before, he’d been rambling on about something that made no sense whatsoever as he ripped at the walls of his pod, something about how space was just a figment of everyone’s imagination and thye were still back on Earth having a collective nightmare. The Spine felt the tears welling up after that; he’d run out of handkerchiefs long ago, and his sleeves were so encrusted in oil that he had no way to effectively dry his eyes.

“Jon, please, _get some rest_ ,” he had croaked out miserably. The sounds on the other end of the most always open communication system stopped for a moment, the little brass bot giving a mechanical whimper before saying something in a tone so small, so _hurt_ , that The Spine had trouble recognising it as his younger brother.

“Will you sing me a song? A lullaby, like you used to when I was scared. C-Can I have another lullaby, Spine?”

The other was silent for a moment, silent as he remembered the good old days in which the scariest thing they’d ever deal with was the “monsters” in The Jon’s closet. With a nod, The Spine said, “Sure, buddy. Just for you. Then when you wake up—”

“I’m not gonna wake up and you know that,” came the harshly solid voice from the other, a small noise of tired and pained fear coming from him to follow the words up. “But I really do want the lullaby.”

A deep breath and The Spine said, “Okay.” The words of Make Believe floated from his lips. He repeated it, sure, but only because it was The Jon. Personally, he hated repeating songs over and over and over, even when the Jon absolutely loved it. After the fifth time, The spine didn’t hear anything coming from the other side of the line, not even the tiniest snore to signify that The Jon was only in sleep mode. The Spine chuckled to himself in a melancholy way. Leave it to The Jon to spend his last words asking for a lullaby from his favourite brother.


	5. Leaky Tap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They had to run. Had to flee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own SPG. Written for “The Great Feels War of 2012.” Ruffy, your turn. Inspired by this image: http://duessa.tumblr.com/post/31244488668/look-hes-been-sitting-under-a-leaky-tap-for  
> This chapter written by Serif.

They had forgotten him.  “We’ll be right back Rabbit.”  They had said.  “We’ll find something to fix your knees with and we’ll be out of here quick as a flash!”  They had promised.  So they left him, in the tunnels, dark and dank under the old old old parts of San Diego.  He couldn’t move anymore, his arms had frozen up from the damp air ages before his legs refused to move any further. 

They had to run.  Had to flee.  Had to get away before their humans were caught in the “anti-robot war” that had started in the wee hours of a Monday morning months ago.

And then the humans found him.  Not his humans.  But THE humans.  Spine and Jon had not come back.  Months had gone by, and Rabbit had sat underground, in total darkness as his eyes had been covered to keep curious humans from finding him.  It hadn’t worked.  They had found him.

And they taught him a lesson.  The robot had to pay for what they had done.  He had to pay for all the pollution the coal-‘bots had created, he had to pay for the interference the Blue Matter was causing, he had to pay for his creator playing god.  He had to pay for existing.

And pay he did.  He suffered, blind, optics slashed from his head, damp air wreaking havoc on his pieces, for years.  And finally, _finally_ , they grew bored of him and left.  Left him torn to pieces, in the dark, alone, unable to move.  Unable to call for help.  Unable to be.  They left him with the ability to do one thing.

Feel.

He could feel the slow drip… drip… drip… drip… of the broken water pipe above him as it dripped… dripped… dripped… dripped… onto his forehead and streaked across his face.  He could feel the itching dryness of a boiler that had long ago ran out of water and rendered him useless. He could feel the screaming in his pieces from torn plates, and ripped wires, rusted joints.  He could feel the crushing darkness that came with one word.

Alone. 

He was alone. 

Several more years passed.  His internal clock still keeping perfect time.  And that dripping… dripping… dripping… dripping… never once let up with its perfect drips, always the exact amount apart, always the exact weight in water. 

There was a new sound.  Heavy footsteps, voices. 

“Oh god.  Rabbit.  What happened?!”

Rabbit?  What was a Rabbit?  Who was speaking? 

He was lifted, he could feel their hands on the back of his head, his neck, his back itself.  The water was gone.  He was lifted out of the water, away from the drip… drip… drip… drip… on his head.  Someone was playing with his eye, turning it, twisting it, reconnecting wires.  And then he could see  A silver face lit up with green eyes of its own, green light glowing from somewhere on the silver surface.  A gold face, blue eyes glowing and green light making it look sickly.  Where was this light from?

“Rabbit, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.  We were caught, we had to escape.  We couldn’t find tools or parts.  They caught us Rabbit oh god they caught you too LOOK AT YOU!”

And then it came rushing back.  Their names, his name, their lives, his life, their fun, his fun, their terror, his terror, their flight into the night, his flight into madness.  Their promise. 

His face broke into the biggest of grins, insanity leaking from every crack in the metal.  He was free now.  They kept their promise.  They had come back.

“You came back.”


	6. Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruffy's Chapter. "QWERTY, The Spine, mentions of Rabbit, The Jon"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Welp I was feeling pretty down so I wrote this. Enjoy your night

It was as if he were in a dream- or, no, this wasn’t a dream. It was more like a nightmare, actually. It was a real, living nightmare, that was how he would describe it. He didn’t know where he was, his brothers were scared to death (from what he could tell), and he himself was rather frightened, as well. Being the normally unshakeable bot that he was, The Spine didn’t get frightened that easily. Being separated from the group, though, that was enough to bring him into the robotic equivalent of a panic attack.

It wasn’t enough for him to have been separated from the group, was it? No, that would have been too easy. Instead, the universe had decided to throw an odd-ball at him. He’d been walking along as casually as one could when frightened past their wits when something caught his eye. It was a faint green glow, much akin to his optics and inner workings. There was also a buzzing sound- but that couldn’t be right, that was only a little monitor! A monitor can’t… Oh. _Oh_. The tall bot rushed forward and picked up the little buzzing screen that was muttering quiet, broken-off sentences about being alone and afraid.

“Sssh, it’s okay, QWERTY, I’m here,” he said, wiping the oil off of her screen with his last handkerchief.

“Mis-s-s-s-ster The Spine?” she buzzed out, monitor flashing with a few different pictures all at once due to her short circuiting.

“Yes, yes, it’s me! Oh, god, what happened to you?” asked The Spine, voice near frantic as he dragged the little monitor he’d brought to life out of harms way.

“Got hi-it,” was all she was able to mutter before a string of jittering shocks wracked through her system.

“Got hit? By what?” asked the tall automaton, flinching as he heard the metal above him creak threateningly.

QWERTY buzzed a bit more and a question mark appeared on her monitor. Then her battery light flashed and she buzzed out a warning. “Power at three percent. Powering down in ten minutes.” Spine frowned and let out a mechanical, anxious sigh.

“You’ll be okay,” he muttered, pulling her into his lap as he rested against the wall. “You’ll be fine, we’ll make it through this.”

–

Five years had passed, and there was silence around the house. In a photo album, the one he and his pseudo-daughter had made together, black oil tears fell and a solemn tune played in the background, one depicting the loss of a child.


	7. The Third Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Head trauma, as silly as it sounded, could put the Steam Man Band out of commission for a short period of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Serif. I highly suggest reading "For the First Time" before reading this one, but it's not needed.  
> http://writertimes.tumblr.com/post/29820316381/for-the-first-time
> 
> I don't own SPG.

The first time Rabbit had lost his sight had been World War One.  When mortars were flying and grenades being thrown and something had hit him in the back of the head.  And he was out like the robotic light he was.  Head trauma, as silly as it sounded, could put the Steam Man Band out of commission for a short period of time.  And that’s what happened with Rabbit.

He lay on the battle field, a nasty dent in the back of his head, powered down.  He has no idea how long he had been that way, his internal clock had also stopped recording time when he had been hit.  A rock.  It had been a rock.  Thrown up from the explosion in the dirt just behind him.  It had hit him with enough force to kill a man, and had wound up denting his copper head in enough to damage the delicate circuitry inside. 

But Colonel Peter A Walter the first was a smart man.  The brains of his clever automatons were self repairing in some respects.  While it couldn’t re-solder broken wires, while it couldn’t glue boards back together, it could rework how it fired.  A portion of Rabbit’s circuitry (far far advanced for its time) was damaged, so the rest of his mechanical brain decided what parts would take over what functions until it could be repaired.  And once everything was back in a decent amount of order, Rabbit powered back on.

And found nothing.  Darkness spread all around him, in every direction.  He looked up, and found no stars.  He looked around, and found no guard fires, no cigarette lights.  His optics, like that of the other Walter Robots, had been given lights.  His optical sensors needed a certain percentage of light to see; while human eyes could see limited at night, his receptors could not pick up that low of light.  So he, The Spine, and The Jon had been given eyes that glowed, allowing them to see around them in the same darkness humans could.  Namely, the night. 

Oh sure they could see the moon and the stars in the sky above them.  But would trip over the bush right in front of them because the moon couldn’t throw enough light for them to see it. 

But raising a hand to his face, Rabbit couldn’t see his fingers.

His first thought was that perhaps there was mud on his lenses, blocking light and sight.  But a rub of his sleeve found nothing was blocking them.  And a quick listen told him the battle still raged around him, so he couldn’t be alone.

He wasn’t alone.

The battle was still going on, and he was blind on the ground, unable to defend himself or help the soldiers he was sent to protect and heal.  He was useless, trapped.  Around him he could hear bombs dropping.  Cannons firing.  People, from both sides, screaming and crying out for help in their agony.  He could hear his brothers calling for help.

“I need a gurney over here there’s too many for me to carry!”

“Gas canister on your three!”

“Keep pressure on that arm, where is Rabbit we need him!”

They needed him.  And he couldn’t be there.  He had bellows outfitted with filters that could help those near the gas.  He was another pair of hands to help lift and move.  He was second eyes to watch for attack.  And he wasn’t there. 

“The Spine!”  It was all he could think to do.  Spine had people to attend to, he shouldn’t have to look out for his older brother.  But Rabbit was reaching a state of loss that he didn’t know what to do with.  All he wanted to do was help, but he needed help in return.   “The Spine I’m here, Spine!”

Heavy feet were by him in moments, he could hear steam hiss as Spine knelt beside him.

“Rabbit come we need your help!”

“Spine I can’t- I can’t see.”

Something was moving in front of his face, his sensors were telling him that wind was rushing by. 

“Your receptors are glowing, you should be fine.  This is no time for games.”

“I ca-ca-ca-ca-can’t _see_ The Spine.”  Spine huffed in reply.  “Something hit me and now I can’t see!  Why won’t you believe me?!”

Resigned, Spine started to search Rabbit’s head, lifting the helmet carefully and peering around joints and vents until he did, indeed, find the hit.

“You’ve got a ding here alright, but it shouldn’t have made your optics go out.  I can’t fix it here.  Joseph!  Here, lean on Rabbit.  The two of you get back to the tent.  Rabbit, Joe was shot in the arm and is b-bleeding badly.  Have him guide you back while you keep him from bleeding out.  Stay there and help as you can, but don’t come back on the field until we can fix you, alright?”

It took three days for Peter the third to reconnect the wires.  The mass of wires that connected his photo receptors to his cranium circuitry. They had been shocked loose from the impact, the ones responsible for input data coming completely off their ports.  He could see again.

The second time Rabbit had lost his sight had been Vietnam.  They were tearing him apart, trying to figure out how he worked.  It was him, or his brothers.  He’d give his life for them.  They shouldn’t have to live with the memories of war, of hate, of pain.  That’s what older brothers were for; to protect their younger brothers.  He might not always act like an older brother, but that’s what he was, and he took that charge very seriously.

He, once more, lost track of time.  Spine was the one with the perfect time clock.  Being run on clockwork, Rabbit’s wasn’t so perfect.  If something went awry with his gears, his sense of time shifted as well.  Peter had said they had been missing eight years.  Rabbit could have sworn it was eight hundred.  Caught in the dark, damp tunnels, taken apart piece by piece, it was almost a gift when his eyes had been taken from him.

Then he didn’t have to see the horrified faces of The Spine and The Jon each time they saw what a state he was put in by the humans that had captured them. 

Rabbit had gone mad, in the darkness.  Last time it had only been a few days, and he had people to talk to, and wasn’t afraid that he wouldn’t wake up the next day.  There, captured, he was afraid.  Afraid he wouldn’t power back on.  Afraid that his brothers would meet his same fate.  Rabbit had turned mad.  He had done unspeakable deeds all in the name of love for his robotic counterparts. 

And then they were saved.  And he was powered off.

They did not power him back on until his eyes were replaced.  Spine had made sure of that. 

“I can’t see him go through that again.”  He had said.  “He may be a horrible older brother but what he did there…”

Spine never did finish that train of thought for the humans.

The third time Rabbit had lost his sight had been the worst.  He had gone from living in black and white, to living in color, and then back to grey.  Now.  Now it was just black. 

They were supposed to be peaceful, not supposed to fight anymore.  But that didn’t mean they couldn’t do their part.  They were entertainers, and had a soft spot for the military.  So they, willingly, shipped themselves to the Middle East to entertain the troops.  No fighting, not this time.  They didn’t even put on camouflage. 

Though they had been encourage to do so.

And in the end that was what had caused it.

A rocket launcher.  Who gave a bunch of cave dwelling psychopaths rocket launchers?!  True, Rabbit didn’t understand the whole war thing going on, he didn’t really get who they were fighting against this time.  Couldn’t really understand Vietnam either.  These felt almost the same.

Their convoy had been blown, attacked.  And Rabbit thought back to the dark tunnels where he had been prisoner.  And he couldn’t let that happen again. 

Rabbit had shoved Spine into the sand, trying to cover him, keep him from reflecting and becoming a target even as the taller robot fought to keep himself standing.  Jon had hidden under the vehicle they had come in, trying to keep himself from shouting in fear with each loud explosion that almost certainly spelled out their end. 

And then Rabbit saw it.  On the hill above them, aiming the rocket at Spine, the easiest to see.  Rabbit couldn’t let that happen.  So he ran.  Up the hill, grabbing, trying, hoping.  He never knew what hit him.

They had options, Peter the sixth had explained when they had been shipped back home for repairs.  The Spine’s faceplate could be replaced with some changes.  The Jon’s joints could be emptied out of sand and modified to keep out dust, though his wig would need to be completely redone.  The Spine agreed, allowing his faceplate to be exchanged.  It was more robotic, the cheeks more inset than previously, lines a little more harsh than humans had.  But he could live with it.  He counted himself lucky this time. 

The Jon agreed, his joints and movement becoming just a hint more fluid than before, his balance being just a tad off that made leaning and running an adventure to re-learn.  And his old wig had been cropped short to be rid of most of the sand and dirt while Wanda sewed and styled a new one. 

Rabbit was a different matter entirely.  While Peter the sixth had Peter the first’s notes, he had none of his experience.  And the updates to Rabbit weren’t as documented as they should have been, mostly because they had been made on-the-spot in battles and emergencies, or done by the robot himself.  Peter could make new optics, but had no idea how to connect them.  Rabbit’s head had taken the most damage from his run in.  His arm and legs could be replaced easy.  His boiler had been patched and refilled.  But the missing photo receptors would have to be replaced once more.  The problem was his circuitry. 

His skull had been damaged as well; the visual portion of his mechanical brain was lost somewhere in bits and pieces of burnt and twisted metal buried in the sand overseas.  Peters the fifth and sixth would have to create new visual components to his brain.  So they did.  And were not compatible. 

Their creation didn’t take to Rabbit’s older circuitry.  It was rejected so violently it burned a hole through his copper head.  So the option was to completely rebuild and reprogram a new mind for him.  
  
The problem with that was compatibility once more.  There was no guarantee that Rabbit’s memories and personality would transfer over from the damaged cortex to the new one.  And even if it did, there’d be no way of knowing if it would control the antique gears and core until they knew if Rabbit was safely in the new brain. 

There were too many “ifs” and too many “maybes.”  In the end, it was Rabbit’s decision to leave it. 

The eldest robot in the house that still worked (even if just) was blind.  Wholly and totally blind. 

He sulked.  It was to be expected.  He sulked for a great many months, locked away in the attic, or the basement, avoiding people and only coming into “occupied” rooms when he needed water.  He had trouble doing much of anything on his own now, mostly because he refused to learn.  But he also refused to let anyone help him.

It was a stormy December before anything of use happened.  The Jon went to look for Rabbit when the storm started.  He always enjoyed having his oldest brother keep the memories of the wars past at bay, the memories that bangs and crashes of thunder only could bring up.  Jon found Rabbit in Pappy’s old study. 

“W-w-w-w-w-what d’ya want Da Jon?”  Rabbit asked when Jon called his name quietly. 

“It’s going to storm.”

“Yeah, and?”

“I was wondering if we could snuggle.”  Rabbit sighed, turning away from the window, empty lights turning to his younger friend.  Although they couldn’t see, it unnerved the humans to have empty holes in Rabbit’s head.  So they put a spare set of green and blue lights in for him.  He looked the same as ever to everyone else.  Opening up an arm Rabbit silently invited Jon to join him on the floor by the window.  Jon rushed over, curling up into his brother’s side. 

“I really like the rain.”  Jon muttered some time later, after their first jumps at the thunder closing in on their home.  “It’s really pretty.”

“I’m sure it is Jon.”

“The way it bounces off the roof and the puddles and the leaves.”

“I can’t see that Jon.”

“Yes you can.”  Rabbit tensed.  “You see it the way I do now.”

“I don’t have eyes Jon.  How how how can I see it?”

“I don’t see it with my eyes.  Well, I do.  But I hear it too!  Listen, it paints pictures.”

So Rabbit listened.  He stopped hating himself and his inability to see, and listened.  And indeed, after some time, he began to see pictures.  He could hear the water SPLAT onto a leaf, then run off its tip to PLIP into a puddle below.  And if he listened hard enough, he could see their shapes, and their colors.  He recalled the green leaves that shimmered in the sun.  He remembered the muddy greybrown water that would sit around for a while before drying up after a rain.  And in his world of black, colors began to paint shapes. 

He saw the flat leaf appear in a flash of green before fading away with each drop of water that hit it.  He could see the edged outlines of blue and grey water ripples with every drip that hit the ink below.  Slowly, slowly, his world moved from one leaf and one puddle to several leaves, and several puddles.  And with gaining speed he saw the tree, the roof, the grass, the glass.  Colors.

Jon had unlocked a memory deep within Rabbit’s damaged circuit board brain, and introduced him to a world of color outlines created by sound. 

He didn’t even jump at the thunder the next time a strike came.

Jon watched Rabbit’s face relax before a small smile crept up the copper plates.  Hugging the older robot tighter, Jon closed his own receptors and listened.  Not to the storm, but to the mechanical heart under his ear.  To the steady tiss tiss tiss tiss of the piston heart that kept Rabbit alive.  To the sturdy tick tick tick tick and answering tock tock tock tock of the gears that kept the inside of Rabbit’s chest active and moving. 

Rabbit was listening to his world that lived.  And Jon was listening to a life that was his world.  He couldn’t imagine trying to be without his brother.  Rabbit was mean, and snarky, and rude, and weird, and stubborn.  But he was his big brother.  He looked out for Jon.  And now, it was Jon’s turn to look out for Rabbit.

Neither of them noticed when Spine joined them at the window, smiling as they enjoyed a moment of peace.  Life would move on in the manor.  It would seem that the old saying held true; the third time’s a charm.   


	8. Imbecilic Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looks can be deceiving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ruffy's chapter for "The Great Feels War" original found here: http://ruffiticus.tumblr.com/post/32177438195/fic-imbecilic-memories  
> Characters: The Jon, Michael Reed, mentions of The Spine, Mr. and Mrs. Reed, The Spine, Rabbit, Peter V, Thadeus Becile
> 
> Rating: PG-13

The year was 1986, and The Jon couldn’t be happier. The family of engineers that lived with the Walters had just gotten a new baby the week before, and he was even allowed to play with him on his first day at the manor! His name was Michael, and he was the pudgiest little baby The Jon had ever seen; that didn’t stop him from cradling and rocking him every chance he got, though. He did get bored soon, as little Michael didn’t do much but sleep and eat, and his eyes weren’t even open yet, but he was okay because The Spine promised they could watch Pinocchio together. What a fantastic ninetieth birthday this was!

–

Five years passed and Michael was growing fast. The Jon was currently in the sunroom with the little rascal, a hula hoop about his hips and a smile playing across his faceplates.

“What you gotta do,” he said through his loose concentration, “Is never let it hit the ground. I mean, that’s how I learned, but you might be a little different on account of how human you are.” The Jon was aware that teasing wasn’t exactly nice, but Michael always giggled and smiled that wonderful smile whenever they played like that.

“Yeah, well at least I got a red hula hoop!” the little tyke teased back, sticking his head out with a laugh. The Jon giggled and pretended to cry.

“Oh, woe is me! I only have this pink hula hoop!” The Jon sank to his knees and covered his face with his hands, smiling devilishly as Michael rushed over with apologies pouring from his mouth. The robot sprung up and lifted the boy off the ground, both of them laughing the entire time. Michael hugged the bigger robot back and giggled into the Jon’s shoulder.

“We’ll always be buddies, won’t we, The Jon?” he asked, head resting on the automaton’s shoulder.

“Of course we will, Michael! We’ll have to always be buddies because we still need to prepare for the zombie bear apocalypse! Enemies can’t prepare for that together, it just do-doesn’t work!” he explained within a bout of laughter. Michael kissed his cheek and the robot hugged him closer, calming down as the five-year-old yawned. “I think it’s time for a nap,” sing-songed the taller as he started to hum a soft lullaby.

“But I’m not tired,” Michael stated through another yawn. Even the little lullaby was enough to get him tired enough to sleep.

“Oh, come on, Michael. We can’t expect to beat the zombie bears if my little trooper is tired!”

“But I wanna keep playing…”

“I promise that we can play more when you wake up, you just need to recharge your battery for a little while, okay? How about we charge together like we do at night?”

Michael smiled at the prospect and nodded. “Okay.”

A few hours later, when Missus Reed went to check on Michael, she found the boy curled around The Jon’s middle with the lower half of his body covered by a blanket. She smiled and adjusted the blanket so they would both be more covered, and she just chuckled when The Jon subconsciously pulled the little boy closer in his sleep.

–

Fast forward seven years and it was the mark of teendom for one Michael Reed. The Jon, Missus and Mister Reed, The Spine, Rabbit, and Peter Walter V were all sat around a big table with a giant cake in the middle, thirteen spirally, purple candles placed haphazardly about the seven different tiers. Michael smiled and wiped some flour off his face, but The Jon didn’t seem to mind that he himself was covered in baking residue.

“Well, they said they could make the cake,” commented Mister Reed with a little smirk.

“And it’s awesome!” shouted Michael, a wide grin upon his face. “And I made it with my best bro, too, so it’s better than any other cake in the world!”

The Jon smiled and gave a lighthearted laugh. The other two Walter bots smiled at their younger brother, and The Spine stood up from his seat. He was followed by Rabbit, and The Jon stood soon after his oldest brother. With a few in-time nods of his head, Rabbit started up a peaceful melody. The Spine joined in a few bars later with a low harmony of his own, and The Jon started to dance around until it was his turn to join in. The three bots sang a capella quite often, and birthdays were no exception. Michael was very happy with how the Happy Birthday song, which was so often boring and bland, was being performed to him by the robots who’d helped raise him. When the song was done and the bots switched from song mode to casual mode, the smaller human ran up and tackled all three of them into a hug. After thanking all of them five times over, The Jon stood up and said, “Last one to the cake’s a rotten egg!”

Then they proceeded to jump onto the cake, as they did every year. And then, after they were both cleaned and devoid of all remnants of cake, Michael was sat down for presents. Most of them were pretty generic, ranging from socks to toy cars, and the Mylar balloons were tacky, but he was happy all the same. After the presents ceremony, he and The Jon dashed off to one of the manor’s various rooms to play with his things.

It was there that The Jon revealed his gift.

“I didn’t give you your present out there,” he said as he knelt down under a stack of boxes, “Because I wanted it to be special.” As The Jon straightened up, he brought with him an old, polished instrument that was faded on the frets from years of use. Michael’s eyes widened as he saw what it was, and he couldn’t hide the grin that was spreading across his face. When the robot brought it around full circle, he grinned. “This used to belong to me, but I hardly ever pl-play it anymore,” he said as he offered the old banjo to Michael. “I figured that since you’ve been wanting one for so long, I could teach you how to play it.”

The kid practically jumped onto The Jon, spewing strings of thanks through a smiling mouth. They spent the next six hours doing nothing but practising, even if Michael had to take extended breaks due to his fingers.

–

It had been a nice twelve years. Sam had joined the band while Michael was in Highschool, and Steve had joined soon after. Michael had grown into a wonderful young man with musical talent coming out of his ears. The Jon was so very, very proud of him. He looked at Michael every day and told him how big of an accomplishment being in the band was, and Michael agreed with his best robot buddy. His smile always brightened The Jon’s day.

The world went black.

The lights flickered on.

A chubby, sinister man came into view, his face twisted into a sickening smile.

“Oh, my little bot. You should really keep better tabs on your precious memories.”

The Jon whimpered and tried to shrink away, but he was feeling very faint, and the restraints weren’t helping, either. He sent a message to his koi, Angelikoi, but she didn’t respond. It was then that he saw the sushi rolls lined up on the table far from where he was. The big man stepped forward and chuckled deep from his throat.

“Don’t worry, I’ve taken care of them all. Especially your precious little _Michael_.” The name of the human that he’d held dear for all these years was a sharp and poisonous sting in this man’s mouth.

“What do you mean?” squeaked the bot, his voice slow and slightly unresponsive.

“Michael is dead.”

“No he’s n-n-not! Don’t say that!”

The man only smiled wider and pointed to the ceiling. The Jon looked up, and there hung the tattered and shredded remains of Michael’s favourite purple tank- a gift for the littlest bot himself.

“Say hi to him for me.”

And the sparks that the power core gave off when it was removed were magnificant.


	9. Falling Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That would be because they didn’t make modifications. Rabbit did.” “I-… No, sir, I did not.” The Jon nodded in agreement. Though, for a more selfish reason. Michael let the matter drop. They were lucky to come home at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serif's chapter. I highly suggest reading “The Third Time” before this, it’s sort of a lead-up to that chapter. Much thanks to the Piratenpad folks! Yes this was also posted on its own. Sorry if you're getting this in your inbox twice. Not every post of TGFWo2012 will be posted separate. Only if they fit in the "Eyes of Blue and Green" 'verse. Sorry.

Rabbit was never given the best of hearing.  He was, technically, a prototype.  The giant giraffe was easy, it didn’t have to think for itself, didn’t have to sing, didn’t have to look human.  Rabbit, though, did.  He and the other robots that were intended for Delilah had to actually feel human enough to be charming.  He was trying to woo her after all.  
  
But Peter wasn’t a doctor.  He wasn’t a musician.  He had no idea what would be needed and not needed.  So he built The Rabbit to give him an idea of what would be required.    
  
And it was helpful!  The Rabbit was, actually, able to tell him what to improve on.  Only catch was that Pappy was so preoccupied with finishing the other robots he never actually got around to implementing the changes on The Rabbit himself.  So while The Rabbit could hear, most of his microphone pickup was internal, rather than external.  He heard those around him as though through a wall, or through water.  But he could hear them, most of the time.  If he tuned everything else out.    
  
“Rabbit” was a very fitting name.  In animals, when one eye is blue and the other is of some other color, typically the animal is deaf in the ear on the blue-eye side.  During the three day war in Africa, The Rabbit had taken a hard hit upside the left side of the head.  It had disconnected the wires in his head, and punctured the microphone that made up his audio receptor.    
  
As Pappy had never shifted his ears, and was much more concerned with finishing everyone else, The Rabbit never told him.  His father was busy, and had work to do.  So he let it go.  After all, Pappy would fix him eventually.  He was just preoccupied right now.  When Pappy had time, he’d fix The Rabbit, and then The Rabbit would tell him.    
  
Peter never did get around to fixing The Rabbit’s ears.  He did a few changes to him, typically new ideas that he wanted to practice on before perfecting them and installing them in the other robots, but Peter was so busy talking and babbling about the changes he was making that The Rabbit never interrupted him.  By the time he was able to put a word in, Peter was ushering him out the door so he could work on The Spine or The Jon or HatchWorth.    
  
“Not now Rabbit, send in The Spine would you?  I perfected the vents for those smokestacks of his!  Let me know how those plating sensors work out hmm?”  
  
Somewhere along the line, Rabbit had lost his “The.”  
  
It hurt, but he was a robot.  Pappy was human.  What did he, a metal man, understand of love and pain?  So he watched, and learned of pain and love and happiness from the man that had created him.  That’s what fathers were for, after all.  
  
It was five years before anyone noticed that something was off.  Rabbit was rarely seen in his holding chambers with his brothers.  He had been glitching now and then, though it would reduce greatly once they found him powered off in a random room or hallway, typically standing against a wall.    
  
It was The Jon that actually thought something was wrong.    
  
“Rabbit?”  
  
It was midnight some late December.  Jon had actually yet to acquire a name, most just called him by his metal type or just whatever name struck their fancy for the length of the conversation.  Now and then he’d be called “Three” though that would get him confused with Peter the third.  Rabbit tended to avoid a name altogether.   
  
“Yeah?”   Rabbit kept his watch out the window, his face a mixed matched mess of boxy faceplate and war machine.  Peter was still designing a more human look for him and the others.  After the Weekend War he had given Rabbit his square jaw back, though it didn’t fit quite right with the now smaller, rounded skull.  And pretty much left him to work on a mess of new and old robots.  Rabbit was, after all, only a prototype.    
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
“Shore shore!  Why’d’ya ask?”  
  
“You can’t power into sleep mode, can you?”  Rabbit didn’t answer.  So the younger golden robot stepped further into the room, pressing a bit more with his questions.  “It’s okay if you can’t, you know.  I have the dreams too.”  
  
“I don’t dream.”  
  
“Because you don’t sleep.”    
  
Rabbit couldn’t contest that.    
  
“I don’t dream, ‘acause I can’t sleep.”  
  
“Why not?”  Rabbit didn’t answer.  “Is that why you glitch so much?  Because you don’t power down?”  
  
“‘Spose so.”  
  
“Why don’t you go into stasis then?  You know you’ll wake up.”  
  
“”Stoo loud.”  
  
“What’s too loud?”   
  
Rabbit turned away from the window then, finally.  His glowing blue and green eyes (an experiment to find which matter worked best for running visuals and never switched out when it was found that neither blue nor green matter were needed to be able to see,) had an almost crazed exhaustion to them.    
  
“D’gears.  They’re too loud.”  The brass and gold robot crossed the room, sitting on the window seat by his oldest brother.  “Dey just tick and tick and tick and tock and tock and tock and are so loud!  An’ it’s all I hear, all da time.”  
  
Rabbit’s voice grew quieter and quieter until it was almost not there at all, his spidery hands coming up to clamp down on his ears.  It didn’t help.    
  
Jon contemplated for a moment, watching the rain patter on the window.  In the pause he could hear, faintly, the hissing and ticking of Rabbit’s pistons and gears.  And it gave him an idea.    
  
“You hear yourself.”  Rabbit nodded.  “I can help.”  Rabbit stared at him.  The younger robot just smiled, gently reaching up and taking Rabbit’s head into his hands.  He lay against the window sill, dragging Rabbit with him and setting the oldest robot between his knees, resting his right ear, his good ear, against the gold plated chest.    
  
It took a few moments for Rabbit to realize what was going on.  When it hit him, he relaxed into a limp noodle atop Jon.    
  
“It’s quiet.”   
  
The void inside the golden chest swallowed all the sound that normally kept Rabbit from hearing anything else around him.  For the first time since he was built, Rabbit was able to choose to shut down into sleep mode, rather than glitching so bad his systems forced him into it.    
  
————————————————  
  
There was something to be said for being almost one hundred twenty years old.  You get to see a lot of the world as it moves and changes.  You see fashions change from upright corsets and bustles and morning coats to loose shirts and pants and jackets.  You see the polyester of the 70’s change to the much more comfortable jeans and cotton.    
  
But probably the biggest change that you notice out of over a hundred consecutive years of existence would be the attitude towards automatonic life.  At first people were wary.  Talking robots weren’t too uncommon around the Cavalcadium.  But robots that could not only speak and move, but **_think_** on their own?!  Unheard of!    
  
There were protesters, obviously, at first.  Peter handled them pretty well, all told.  They never really bothered anyone too much, and even The Jon (as of yet un-named until about WWI) didn’t take much mind to them.  And then times changed.  The fear and anger over the robots slowly developed into awe, and copy-cat automatons started to pop up all over the world.    
  
And then everyone started to want a robot of their own.  Computers became a reality, changing from once self-moving robots into human controlled rooms, to hand held devices costing only a fraction of their original price.    
  
Out of all of these changes, what most noticeably changed were human attitudes to the robots themselves.    
  
First had been fear and anger. Then had been awe and wonder.  Soon they were a sideshow attraction, something to see and enjoy and brag about to your friends.  They became weapons, friends, weapons again, friends once more, experiments to win wars with, creations ripe for the taking and controlling.  But they were always robots.  While the world progressed, there was still some reservation in attitudes towards them.    
  
Spine felt it first.  He had, in 1955, been upgraded to feel human emotions further than any of the other Walter Robots could.  While they could all experience emotions (a running joke between the brothers was that they were programmed to “think” they could feel) Spine had been upgraded to not only _feel_ them, but have a _need_ to feel them.  
  
It became like a drug for him.  A strange itching need to fill the desire to feel as much as robotically and humanly possible.  So he started to date.  Humans, of course, being the only creatures he could do so with.  The need to copy, to BE human, was implanted in him.  He had never cared before.  He knew what humans were like, he knew emotions.  But never the need to BE like them, to mimic them so perfectly.  That had been put into him.  And so he started dating.    
  
Human girls, at first, were unresponsive.  It was cute, having a robot singer as your “bo.”  But after the initial “Aww he’s so sweet!”  it would become a bit awkward.  He watched them too closely, copied everything they did from how they cut their steak to how they picked up their glass of water. The hardest part was walking.    
  
His girlfriends never lasted long.    
  
That was, until society began to change once more.  When his changes first came about, in the fifties and sixties and seventies, while sex was becoming more and more open it was still not okay to be anything other than a man and a woman together.  That was changing now.  Men were seen dating other men in public.  Women were seen dating other women in public.  And, it seemed, robots were allowed their own day in the revolutionary sun.    
  
His girlfriends were still rather flighty; they would last longer than a few months, but never more than a year.  After a while, Spine didn’t seem to mind it as much as he had before.  Unlike the girlfriends of the past who would pretend until it hurt, the girls of the 2000’s actually _spoke_ to him about issues, brought attention to what was going wrong or right.    And there were always a few that wanted to go further, deeper, in their relationships with him.  He would always refuse.  Spine was, if nothing else, a perfect gentleman.  
  
The Jon was never really what you would call up to date.  While he had been upgraded, and was always far more advanced than his older and younger brothers and sisters, Jon was never mentally all there. People would call him childish, strange, stupid… His brothers just called him innocent.  This really wasn’t true by any stretch of the imagination.   He had been in the wars.  He had seen just as much death and pain as Rabbit, Spine, and HatchWorth.  He had been through the agony of upgrades.  But through all of this, The Jon never felt the need to experiment with his emotions.  He knew what he was, how he was, and why he was.  He knew the joy of chasing a butterfly in the warm sun.   Of letting the cold rain wash the dirt off his brass and gold plating.    
  
Being sad never got him anywhere in their dark past.  So he wouldn’t let him get him anywhere now.  He was perfectly content just being himself, and letting things happen rather than forcing them.  
  
Rabbit had a hard time understanding love.  He learned it from watching Peter the first.  Pappy had a twisted view of love after Delilah died.  He was protective of his robots, even if he was a bit reckless around them.   He took care of Iris and Two and Three, even though he tended to be a bit distant from them for long periods of time.  Rabbit had seem him dote, had seen him explode, had seen him break down.  Love, to Rabbit, was a mixed bag of whatever you could grab, and didn’t make any real sense.    
  
His first “love” of course, was a toaster.  He thought it safe.  It wouldn’t die like Delilah had, or make you angry like Iris would sometimes make Pappy angry.  A toaster couldn’t talk back, it couldn’t die, it couldn’t leave you.  So he poured what he knew of “love” into the toaster.  
  
And then dropped her.  Because you have to hurt the ones you love to show them you love them.  After all, Pappy had sometimes insulted Iris until she cried, then he would hold her and make her feel better.  Pappy would leave Rabbit or Spine or Jon open and malfunctioning on the table because he was angry at WHY they were malfunctioning, and go work on another project.  He’d always come back, later, apologize and make them feel better.  Rabbit had always been a prototype, and while the others gained the perfected pieces, Pappy would tell him he was just a prototype and didn’t need them, while giving him a hug and telling Rabbit how valuable he was to Peter.  It hurt, but Pappy loved him.  You have to hurt the ones you love, so they’ll love you more.    
  
Spine had told him this wasn’t how love was supposed to work.  And whenever Rabbit asked on stage “Do you remember the time I was in love?”  Spine answered honestly.  No, no he didn’t, because Rabbit was never _really_ in love with that toaster.  Just like he was never _really_ in love with Pappy, or Pappy _really_ in love with him.  It took another girl that Rabbit referred to as “Honeybee” to teach Rabbit the lesson of “No, Jenny was not really your love.”    
  
By the time Peter Walter’s Steam Man Band turned into today’s Steam Powered Giraffe, all of Walter’s robots had come far in their lives.    
  
Far enough to have gained three new band members.  Sam, Steve, and Michael.  Michael, though, wasn’t actually new.  The Reed family lived to take care of the Walter ‘bots, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when Michael (the “newest” Reed of the family) joined the band.    
  
————————————————  
  
“Hey Jon.”  The Jon glanced up from his position on the floor, where he was contentedly drawing on colored construction paper.  
  
“Oh hey Michael!”  
  
“So I was going over the new songs for your guy’s second album.  I was thinking we should change it up some.  We got Rabbit that new microphone for his melodica, so why don’t we switch you and Spine around, and put Rabbit closer to Sam so we can have the piano easier for the two of you to get to?”  
  
“That won’t work.”    
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Because Rabbit needs to be stage left.”  Both were caught by surprise as The Spine spoke up from the doorway.  “That won’t change.  Jon and I can move around though, that’s fine.”  
  
“Why can’t Rabbit move somewhere else?”  
  
“He can’t hear out of his left ear.”  
  
“Why don’t I just fix that?”    
  
Spine and Jon exchanged looks, not even needing to have a private Wi-Fi conversation to know how that was going to end.  
  
“Because Pappy didn’t fix it.”  Jon’s voice was small.    
  
“Rabbit really needs to get over that.  I can fix it, and he’ll be good as new.”  
  
“I actually agree with Rabbit on this one.”  Michael gave Spine an incredulous look. “Rabbit’s had to be repaired hundreds of times.  You don’t think we could have had it fixed then?  No.  R-Rabbit has a reason for that not being repaired.  And I agree with him.”  
  
The Jon nodded in agreement.  Though, for a more selfish reason.  He liked being able to help Rabbit power down.  It made him feel useful, loved, needed.  He was just the silly little brother after all.  Being able to help Rabbit was his way of feeling special.  Jon, really, was no better than Rabbit when it came to showing affection.    
  
Michael let the matter drop.  He never asked to switch robot positions after that.    
  
—————————————-  
  
It had taken almost a year to put Rabbit back together.  By some miracle he had caught that rocket, saving the convoy and his brothers from being blown to smithereens.  But it hadn’t done _him_ any favors.  His right arm was gone, as were both his legs, and a large portion of his forehead and upper half of his face.  His arm, actually, had been forced through his chest, puncturing his water chamber and causing it to empty out into the sands of the Middle East.  It had been Rabbit’s hand that had caused damage to Spine’s faceplate.    
  
They were lucky to come home at all.    
  
Almost a year.  Spine and Jon and HatchWorth had spent a great deal of their time in the workshop with the humans, piecing their oldest brother back together.  There were no rehearsals, no creating new songs, no performances.  They had salvaged old limbs from previous attempts to repair Rabbit after the World Wars.  They took this time to update Rabbit as much as they could.  New gears that weren’t ground down.  Fresh cables that weren’t stretched.  Fresh wires that weren’t frayed or burned.  They remolded his skull to fill in where the explosion had destroyed it.  Patched his boiler and refilled it.  Last of all, they created new optics.  
  
Rabbit had started out his life like his brothers.  In black and white.  Color technology hadn’t even been a thought, and already Peter was making great strides in having fully sentient robots.  He hadn’t figured out color vision for them though.    
  
When the film industry started to experiment with color, the robots were the first to see as such.  Muted, washed out, but it was color.  When Rabbit lost his eyes in a war, they had been replaced with his first pair.  He was back to black and white.  He had never had them changed when his brothers were upgraded to the new “High Definition” optics that allowed them to see in full colors like real humans.   After all, those came after Pappy had died.  And the fear of going two days without being able to see what too much for him to deal with.    
  
Now, he needed whole new optics.  Steve seemed rather thrilled at the idea of having Rabbit wake up after a year of repairs and having perfect eyesight.  And hearing.  Sam was the one that asked if they could repair his ears.  Spine and Jon, once more, stepped in and ended that quickly.    
  
“It’s bad enough he’ll have to wake up to missing a year.  He shouldn’t have to deal with people messing with his internals.”  
  
“They are his ears.  We can say they were damaged in the explosion too and He’ll never have to know.”  
  
“We’ll know.”  
  
They let the matter drop.  
  
But they did piece Rabbit together finally.  Peters the fifth and sixth built the optics, and rebuilt the optic portion of Rabbit’s mechanical brain.  They modified it to accept the advanced cameras.  Everything was hooked up and ready, the new faceplates and shutters and skull hatch in place.  Steve turned Rabbit on.  
  
His fingers twitched, the shutters of the new optics flicked but did not open.  There was an acrid stench before smoke started to stream from the seam of the new copper on his head, and then a bang like that of a gunshot deafened the humans of the room.  Everyone ducked; Jon covered Peter, Peter, and Michael.  Spine took care of Steve and Sam.  HatchWorth was the only one not to dive for cover.  
  
“I don’t think it worked.”  HatchWorth’s halting words brought everyone back to the table moments later.  Rabbit was powered off on his own once more, a large hole in the metal above his left eye told the story.  The new brain circuitry was not accepted.    
  
—————————  
  
“I don’t **_get it_**!”  It had been two weeks.  Peter the sixth was bent over blue prints and schematics of all the robots of Walter Manor.  Michael was pouring over Peter the first’s notes.  Steve was picking apart the remains of the burnt rejected sight circuits.    
  
“I followed Great Grand Pappy’s design; I put in upgrades that should have been compatible.  There’s no reason for it to have been shot!”  
  
“There might be.” The room turned to Michael as he stopped pacing, picking up a diagram of Rabbit’s internals and pointing out a line in the journal.  
  
“’ _The human brain has the miraculous advantage of shifting the work load should there be damage.  If something is forgotten, or lost, the rest of the brain rewires itself to take the load.  Perhaps there is a way to implement this in the automatons to allow them to self-repair should damage befall them._ ‘  So what Colonel Walter is saying is if something breaks, another circuit board takes over that program.”  
  
“Okay?  But nothing’s taking over Rabbit’s eyes.”   
  
“That damage is too big.  But take a look at this.  See how Rabbit was laid out in 1896?”  The group shifted to the metal table where Rabbit was still open and being worked on.  “This doesn’t look anything like what he has going on in his head right now.”  
  
“So someone’s shifted everything over time.”  
  
“Of course they have.”  Spine spoke up.  He hadn’t left Rabbit’s side since they tried to power him on.  “We’ve all been damaged and repaired over the years.  Upgraded.  My own brain isn’t like Colonel Walter’s diagram.”  
  
“But yours is documented.  You have a file that has every change ever made to you.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Well.”  Michael pulled Rabbit’s file from the table and dug through it looking for other diagrams.  “No one’s documented any of Rabbit’s brain changes.”  
  
Spine rose from his chair and sorted through the papers himself, confusion becoming apparent as his spines began to spew steam.  
  
“This isn’t right.  Three was adamant that Two and Four kept perfect records of every change they made.”  
  
“I’m sure Grandpa Four and Great Grandpas Two and Three tried, The Spine.  But if they were made they aren’t here.”  
  
“That would be because they didn’t make modifications.  Rabbit did.”  The room went quiet as Peter the fifth spoke over his son.  “Rabbit explained to me that he had to make emergency repairs during the wars.  Both to himself, and to the two of you, Spine.  He says you’ve done the same for him.  When you fixed his legs in World War Two, did you write it all down?”  
  
“I-… No, sir, I did not.”  
  
“And did you tell Father and Grandfathers?”  
  
“No, sir, I did not.”    
  
“So what makes you think that Rabbit ever documented anything?”  
  
“You mean whatever we build might not be connecting right to what is really going on in Rabbit’s head.”  
  
“Correct.  It’d be like connecting the In to the Out, or a resistor of the wrong volts.”  
  
“So we’re flying blind then.”  
  
“It would appear so Sam, it would appear so.”  
  
—————————————  
  
They wound up sealing off broken circuits and carefully powering Rabbit on without optics.    
  
He panicked, which was to be expected.  He didn’t know where he was, what had happened, why he couldn’t see…  The Spine, The Jon, and HatchWorth had to hold him down until he managed to gain control of himself once more.  
  
“Rabbit, do you know where you are?”  Michael kept his voice low, soft.  He sat just out of Rabbit’s arm’s reach.  
  
“Nnnnnnnn-n-n-n-n-no.”  
  
“You’re at home.  It’s Michael, do you recognize my voice?”  Rabbit gave a tiny nod.  “Good.  That’s very good Rabbit.  Do you remember what happened to you?”  
  
“No.”    
  
“What is the last thing you remember?”  
  
“We were f-f-f-f-fflying.”  
  
“Okay.  That gives us a place to start.  Rabbit do you remember where you were flying too?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“You and Spine and Jon were flying to the troops in the Middle East.  You were going to entertain our soldiers.  Do you remember that Rabbit?”  
  
“No, but I’ll take ya word for it.”  
  
“Good good.  The Spine told me you were attacked.  That you saved everyone’s lives.  You don’t remember that?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“You were very badly damaged Rabbit.  You’ve been powered down for about a year now.”  
  
“A YEAR?!”  
  
“Rabbit Rabbit it’s okay!  It’s okay!  Just listen to me Rabbit, okay?  Can you hear me?”  
  
Rabbit nodded, still shivering on the table that he sat on.  Spine let go of his arms.    
  
“I’m sorry it has taken us so long Rabbit.  We wanted to make sure we did it right.  But we ran into a problem.”  
  
“What kinda problem?”  
  
“Your optics were broken.”  
  
“Dat’s easy.”  
  
“No, Rabbit.  Listen to me.  Your optics were broken.  And when they were broken, part of your brain was destroyed.  The visual portion.”  
  
Rabbit was silent.    
  
“We’ve tried to rebuild it based off Peter the fi- Pappy’s design.  But it didn’t work.  Rabbit your circuits fried what we rebuilt.  For some reason what we made isn’t compatible with what you already have.”  
  
No one moved.  The only sound in the room was the soft ticking of Rabbit’s clockwork.  After a moment, he sighed out a bit of steam and wrapped his arms around himself.    
  
“So, wuts dat mean?”  
  
“Peter was thinking of building you a whole new brain.  Fresh circuits, whole new layout and design.  It would mean no more forgetting set lists, being able to see again, thinking quicker than ever before.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“The problem is, once we build this, we have to transfer all the information you have stored in your head to the new circuits.  We’re worried that the old circuits will reject the transfer.”  
  
“Meanin’ you’d lose me.”  
  
“Essentially, yes.  If something were to happen, it’d be like you woke up for the first time in 1896.  You’d be you, but your personality might be a little different, and you wouldn’t remember anything.  You have your same core, the same S.O.U.L., but none of your changes over the last hundred years.  That’s only a possibility though!  It _might_ happen, but it might not.”  
  
“So why’d ya power me on to tell me dis?”  
  
“It’s a big decision Rabbit.  And it’s happening _to you_. We thought you’d appreciate being able to have some say in it.”  It took a few moments, but Rabbit nodded.  He understood.    
  
“Can I… Can I talk to SSSSSSSSSSSSSSpine for a moment?”  
  
The humans and the two youngest robots left the room to allow the brothers to talk.    
  
—————————————-  
  
“I can run wifout all th’circuits, right?”  
  
“Yes.”  Spine had called everyone back into the workshop about half an hour later.  Michael was back in his chair answering Rabbit’s questions once more.  Rabbit was gripping the side of the metal table under him so hard there were dents.    
  
“Ya can… ya can guarantee that I’ll run wifout dem?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“But, but not that I’ll tranfa to da new brain?”  
  
“Right.  I can’t say for certain that it’ll work.”  
  
“Don’t do it.”  
  
“I’m sorry?”  
  
“Don’t make a new brain.  Don’t tranfa me ova.  It’s not… It’s not worth it.”    
  
Everyone let that sink in for a moment.  Michael looked to Peter, who looked to his father, who looked to Steve, who looked to Sam, who looked to Spine.  Who nodded.  The discussion he had with Rabbit would not leave that room.  It wasn’t anyone else’s business what his older brother’s fears were.    
  
“Okay.  Then let’s get you cleaned up and dressed and let Jon know that you’re okay.”


	10. Not Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I bet you all thought you were safe. (Ruffy's Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ruffy's Chapter. They have an AO3 now! Isn't that great!

“Jon.” No response. “Jon.” The robot was as responsive as a stone. “Jon, this isn’t funny, wake up.” He failed again to open his eyes, and Michael began to worry. Wasn’t his battery charged enough? He had had his Pepsi, the human was sure of that. Was it a malfunction? The engineer knelt down to be beside his oldest friend and plead desperately in fleeting whispers for The Jon to just wake up. This made three days that the robot had lain dormant.

Five minutes passed and Michael’s wishes were very unheard by the stoic form of the brasold robot before him. After another minute of wishful waiting, the human stood and wiped the tears from his eyes. He’d just have to try again tomorrow. Though, as he was leaving, there was a shrill noise and the smell of smoke filled the small room The Jon used as a stasis chamber. Michael whipped around and felt his eyes widen in horror. The smallest robot’s body was convulsing and spewing smoke at an alarming rate. Steve heard Michael scream as the mechanic dove for the closest thing to a brother he had, and was ultimately the one to pull his friend out of the room. Sam, however, wasn’t about to see anymore death in the manor. After all, he had seen two generations of Walters die. The mustached man leaped into blacked-out room, and Steve cursed as a blindingly bright blue light shown from beyond the empty door frame.

–

It was a funny thing, a robotic coma was. The Jon didn’t mind it much, really. It was full of fantastic colours and shapes, things surreal in nature, and contrasting things of every sort. The Jon was obviously the most obtuse of the Walter bots. He wasn’t witty like Rabbit, or smooth like The Spine. He was quiet and laughed at things only he could hear or see. Strange things happened around him, and he lived his life as if through a haze of half-consciousness. The images in his head during this time of forced stasis were calming, because he understood them; he was stressed by things in the “real world,” as they were all right corners and orderly.

His koi was the only thing that understood him, really. She was different, just like he was. She had a funny pattern about her scales that made her unique, much in the same way that The Jon’s funny thinking patterns made him unique. The robot smiled as a giant likeness of his koi friend swam above him. He was sitting alone on his golden hill, surrounded by the red rubble that he had found so many years ago in his first dream. This was a special place, a place where nothing had to make sense because it was just so pretty.

The sky went dark. The Jon panicked and stood quickly, whirring his head around to find his big koi friend in the sky. She wasn’t there, and never had been- Jon knew that. He knew all about his dream world, and this was a bad sign.

On the outside, his physical body was being attacked by itself. His core had been taken victim in the robotic equivalent of a heart attack, his core rupturing inside his chassis from a too-great amount of energy being directed through it. The now-spilled blue matter ripped a hole in the universe, as it had fallen into the black hole inside the Jon’s chest. The small bot’s systems all flashed red, and the last thing he saw before his brain was vaporized was Sam’s face, an expression emoting pain, fear, and determined stubbornness wrought within his features.

–

They all lost people that day. Steve lost a great colleague, and even a friend, in Sam. Michael lost the only person he’d ever considered a brother. The Spine lost a brother and a close friend. Rabbit, though he’d never admit it, thought he’d lost the entire world. Who would be there for him to catch when they fall? The Spine was too proud for that sort of thing. Rabbit locked himself away after that. He’d lost something entirely too dear.

However, The Jon wasn’t completely lost, and neither was Sam. The rip in the universe acted as a sort of melding pot, feeding off the energy from the Jon’s core, and produced a new piece of matter. His eyes were bright blue, just as The Jon’s had been, and he was of a shorter stature. Though, his mustache and bright orange facial hair clearly pointed to traits of Sam. Yes, indeed, the universe granted one of Michael’s wishes, and that was to not lose The Jon. This new member, once conscious from the ordeal and dusted off after being found, carried a message for Michael.

The human started at this five-foot-five mix of Sam and The Jon for a good moment before hesitantly nodding for the automaton to proceed.

“Michael, this is only for if I… Y-You know, never come back online,” said The Jon’s voice out of this new guy’s vocaliser. “I just want you to know that, well, I love you lots. I used to watch Peter and Peter play together when they were growing up, and I realized… That’s how we play most of the time. So… I know Spine would say we’re not related by blood, o-or anything, but we’re brothers. I thought you should know that. And— … Oh, that’s you.” He laughed, and a bit of background audio played. “I have to go help set up the show now. I’ll get back to you later, okay? Bye!”

Humans and automaton alike were in tears by the end of the audio clip, and the new steel automaton was looking rather scared and confused. Michael recognized that look- it was the one The Jon made when he was confused, or frightened, or both. After wiping at his eyes, the man took the robot into a tight hug and bit back a sob.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up, okay?”


	11. You're a Robot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're a robot. You can't age. You can't think. You can't feel. You can't-"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serif's chapter! Slight nod to a headcanon that I do not yet have published, but will show up in another fic very very soon. Enjoy! Of course, none of us own SPG.

_"You're a robot.  You can't age."_  
  
 _'No.'  Rabbit once though.  'But I do get older.'_  
  
"Older" of course, was a nice way of putting "falling apart."  Metal ages.  It tarnishes, it breaks, it wears down and bends.  Plastic snaps, becomes brittle, thins and melts.  Nothing lasts forever.  Things can be replaced, can be repaired, can be added on and taken away.  But not everything lasts forever.  He could give in.  Could have their upgrades, their changes.  He could let them take away his cogs and gears, his tension cables and pistons, his bellows and boiler.  But it wouldn't matter either way.  He could be as upgraded as any robot could.    
  
But in the end, it wasn't just his body that was failing him.  But his mind.    
  
Modern hard drives were built to last about five years.  Solid states about thirty.  They were one hundred and then some years old.  Rabbit liked to think that his mind was still just as sharp as the day Pappy had first powered him on.  He liked to act as though his mind was still just as sharp as the day Pappy had first powered him on.    
  
But the truth of the matter was that nothing lasts forever.    
  
And Rabbit was pretty much a prototype that grew on Peter, and he didn't have the heart to decommission it.  So not everything was quite the way it should be, not quite the way it was for The Spine or The Jon or HatchWorth.  But he made do.    
  
That was the biggest reason he didn't want upgrades.  Sure, keeping Pappy's original work was all well and good, but when you thought about it very little of what he was now was what Pappy had put in.  The wars had not been kind.  Being sent home in pieces in a crate did not a whole robot make.  No.  Rabbit liked to think he was keeping Pappy's work.  Liked to have the others think it too.  Wanted them to remember Pappy through him, if he could, just a little bit longer.    
  
But in the end, he knew it was time and money he was saving.  Spine, Jon, HatchWorth, they had so much going for them.  They needed repairs, needed upgrades.  They couldn't go on forever, but they could last a good long time.  Rabbit, on the other hand, knew his time wasn't endless.    
  
Passwords were getting harder to remember.  Set lists had to be changed in the middle of the act when all of a sudden he switched up the lead in words, not realizing he had done so until later.  No.  He knew that his mechanical brain couldn't hold on forever.  Nothing lasted forever.  So, why bother upgrading and putting time into something who's very center was going to give out long before anyone else's? Better to save it for someone who needed it.    
  
_"You're a robot.  You can't think."_  
  
 _'No.'  The Jon once though.  'But I do understand.'_  
  
Everyone, even his own brothers, thought he was flighty and stupid.  That he didn't understand what was going on around him.  That he was a child, with a simplistic view of the world and the brain of a toddler.    
  
And it might be true.  Some of the time.    
  
The void within his chest did make staying in reality a bit tough.  But he could do so when it counted.  Everyone thought him stupid, naive, unable to remember.    
  
But he did remember.    
  
He remembered carrying people, both friend and foe, back to the med tent to be treated.  He remembered holding a man down while his hand was stitched back onto his arm, only to watch that man die anyway of infection.  He remembered guiding the pilot over the foreign land as the airplane's navigator, only to watch a mushroom cloud rise up into the sky behind him moments later.    
  
He remembered watching his brothers be torn apart, limbs ripped from bodies as they screamed in robotic agony, before they set to work on him.  He remembered waking in a panic, years later, powered on for the first time since the pain started without any idea that he was finally physically home.    
  
But they all thought he was a moron who didn't remember the wars.  Who didn't remember having to lock his little brother in a prison because of something no one could predict or control.  Who just did whatever his programming told him to do and never once did anything for himself.    
  
But he did.  He remembered so much more than he'd like too.  But it was easier this way.  It was easier for people to only see a silly brass and gold robot with fewer than two brain circuits to rub together.  His songs, after all, were about birds in hats and stilt walkers and sunsets and electricity running through wires and circuses.    
  
Because it was easier.  When your very soul was buried in a void that was a doorway between reality and imagination, keeping the two separate wasn't easy.  And after the horrors he had seen, his brothers had seen, he didn't really want to anymore.  He had done his time.  And more so.  He had seen so much death, so much destruction.  Been a part of it at times.    
  
So people thought he couldn't think.  That was okay.  It was so much easier to not think, and to just feel, than it was to remember.  Let the others dwell on the past.  Jon would much rather look to the future that could be.    
  
_"You're a robot.  You can't feel."_  
  
 _'No.'  HatchWorth once though.  'But I do remember.'_  
  
He was the youngest of the singing robots, as far as anyone was concerned.  There were so many more robots now, in the manor, that really he had a ton of brothers and sisters that he was "older" to.  But they had taken time to come about.  In those first years, the years just after The Weekend War, it had been just the four of them.  Just Rabbit, just The Spine, just The Jon, just HatchWorth.  True, two of them hadn't had names.  And true, he gained a name before Jon had.  But it was still just them.    
  
Until...  until it wasn't.    
  
Until all of a sudden there were badgers and sandwiches and parties and five miles and a crack.    
  
A crack that spelled nothing good.    
  
"We'll fix it."  They said, as kind hands helped him into the lead lined vault.  "We need to do some research, but until then we need to make sure you don't get yourself or others hurt.  None of us could live with that if it happened."    
  
So he sat, in the dark, waiting.  And waiting.  And time went by.  Jon would come by and talk to him through the door.  And Rabbit would come down, sometimes with Jon, sometime alone.  And Spine would hold a good conversation.  And then they stopped.  HatchWorth, afraid and alone, knocked hopefully.  One day, Jon came back.  He was quiet, but he was there.  And that was all that mattered.  And then Spine came back.  He was less quiet, which was wonderful.  It took longer for Rabbit to come back.  And when he did, he didn't make much sense.  But that was okay, because Rabbit's stories were the best.  Even if they confused the confined 'bot.    
  
Until they went away again.  This time, it took longer for them to come back.  Jon came down first, to tell them they were home.  Spine came after.  He sounded bitter, but was glad that Hatchy was okay.  Rabbit came down once.  Just once.  And fell asleep by the door.  HatchWorth did the same on his side.    
  
He was awoken by screams and shouts, and images in his head.  Fires burned, people died, skeletons gazed out of walls.  The images stopped, abruptly, when Spine's voice rang through the door.    
  
"HatchWorth, can you hear me?"  
  
"Yes The Spine."    
  
"Rabbit won't be coming down here anymore.  I'm sorry."    
  
"What has happened?"  
  
"We aren't sure."    
  
"Did you see them as well The Spine?"  
  
"See what?"  
  
And so HatchWorth showed him what Rabbit had shown him.  It was a long time before anyone came down to talk to him again.    
  
But he had something now.  Images of the outside world.  He had been in the dark for so long he didn't know what it looked like.  Now Rabbit had given him a glimpse.  So he would sit in the dark, and replay what he had seen.  After a while, he started to find it pretty.    
  
The door finally opened.  A man in a mask was there.    
  
"I've come to fix you."  He said.  HatchWorth was glad to hear that.  He wanted to see this world.    
  
And what he saw was nothing like what he had been shown.  It was far far better.  Much more light, far less death, and singing that came from him.  This was so much lovelier.    
  
"I like this very much better."  He confessed one day to The Spine and Rabbit, after rehearsal.    
  
"Ya like what Hatchy?"  
  
"This world.  It is much better than the one in the vault, and the one you showed me once Rabbit."    
  
"The one I showed you?"  
  
"Yes.  The one you showed me when you fell asleep outside of my vault door.  That world was beautiful, wondrous, glorious! But this one is better."    
  
Rabbit was uncharacteristically quiet.  Spine took over the conversation after that.    
  
But that was okay.  Because awkward conversation meant he wasn't alone.  And that was better than sitting by himself and remembering the exile into the dark.    
  
 _"You're a robot.  You can't die."_  
  
 _'No.'  The Spine once though.  'But I do know of an afterlife.'_  
  
Robots cannot die.  Spine knows this well enough.  He had been damaged, had been bled dry of his oil or water, had been torn apart.  And each time he is repaired, refilled, built anew, and powered back on with everything perfectly intact.  His memories, his "emotions," his name.   Everything but his pride, really.  But what is pride to a robot?   
  
He cannot die.  But he has felt its cold grip more times than he'd like to admit.  He's not human, but he dreams of the day that he is.  Which, when he thinks about it, is a tad morbid.    
  
His first experience with death of the robotic kind had, of all things, not been his own.  But Rabbit's.  His older brother's core had been stolen.  He had found him, in a puddle of oil, chest ripped open and eyes dark.  Rabbit had been dead.  There was no thought process in his brain, there was no movement in his piston, there was no breath in his bellows.  Without his soul, his core, there was no Rabbit.  And then that core had exploded, and Spine thought he'd never have an older brother again.    
  
Until the core was returned to the repaired chassis.  And Rabbit awoke.  And looked around confused, asking where Two and Guy and Pappy and Delilah and Iris were hiding.    
  
"They were just here a moment ago! Hey what happened to my hand?"  
  
It wasn't until about fifteen years later that Spine understood what Rabbit had asked.  He remembered watching Rabbit's head be removed from his body, watching Jon scream and back away from the humans, watching hands come at him...   
  
And then feeling warm arms around his shoulders.    
  
"It's alright m'boy, you don't need to worry about them."  Green eyes opened to a man he hadn't seen in over twenty years.  And hadn't seen this young in over fifty.    
  
"Father?"  
  
"Ah! Good, you remember who I am!" Spine sat up, finding that he was laying on his back on the floor, Peter the first helping him sit upright.    
  
"How?" And then he saw it.  Hands.  His hands.  Pink, pale, and full of life.  "HOW?!"  
  
"Calm it d-down will ya? It ain't dat hard."  Spine's head whipped around and found a skinny man sitting in Rabbit's chair.  When did he get to the manor?! The man, human, bald, mismatched eyes...   
  
"Figured it out yet cowboy?"  
  
"Rabbit?"  
  
"In da flesh! You too.  Don' worry, Jon'll be by lata."    
  
"J-Jon?"  
  
"Oh yeah, dem hoodlums were gettin' close to 'him afore I could get ov-ver to help."    
  
"Where, where are we?"  
  
"You're home The Spine."  His attention was taken by someone else this time, a lovely lady he had known for a while.  Iris.    
  
"Ma?"  
  
"Oh good, you still remember me! I was beginning to worry that you'd forget me after a while."    
  
"I don't- how?"  
  
"Don't ya get it yet? We're dead big fella!" Spine stared at Rabbit.  This was Rabbit? He wasn't a robot! Said human sighed, getting to his feet and pulling Spine upright, helping Pappy to his feet a moment later.   "Think we gotta explain it Pappy?"  
  
"I think I might be able to help."    
  
"Three?" Peter the third grinned from the fire's hearth.    
  
"We have a lot of catching up to do.  Have a seat, we'll wait for Jon and then everything will be explained."    
  
No.  Robots can't die.  Nine years later Spine was playing a game out in the back garden with Three, Rabbit, Jon, and Mark, when Rabbit vanished.  Jon followed about ten minutes later.    
  
"Looks like that kid of mine managed to fix you up.  See you later Spine."    
  
"No."    
  
"What?"  
  
"No.  I won't go."    
  
"You don't have much choice."    
  
"Why not? I'm dead right? I'm human here.  I'm alive and human and with my family and no.  I won't go."    
  
But in the end, Peter the third was right.  He didn't have much choice.  He was gripping his brother, sobbing, trying his hardest to stay with him, when he blinked and found himself starting up at a blank concrete ceiling.  He was back home, alive, in his robot body.  Rabbit and Jon were around him, sad knowing smiles growing as they helped him to his feet.    
  
"I want to go back."  He confided in them once, years later, when another tragedy and war hit the United States.  Rabbit just shook his head.    
  
"Don't rush it.  We'll go back, one day.  But right n-now we're here.  And that's a good place to be.  One day we won't be."    
  
"I see nothing wrong with that.  There we were human, we were safe, we had our family-"  
  
"There we were dead."  Jon pointed out, eyes clear and very serious.  "There, our world didn't change.  We stayed the same, all the time."    
  
"And?"  
  
"Here, the world is always changing.  Always something new to see.  You know what we didn't do while we were there?"  
  
"What."    
  
"Sing.  Dance.  Create music.  Entertain people."  Rabbit provided the answer.  "That's what we were made for Spine.  To be the musical robutt band.  That's what we weren' when we were there."    
  
"So what?"  
  
"Spine.  Don' ya get it? Over there is great, sure.  Wif Pappy and th'others.  But the price is we lose lose ourselves."    
  
Spine thought long and hard on that.  Over there, he was a human.  He had his father, his mother, his brothers, nieces, nephews, family.  What could be bad about that? No longer creating art was a small price to pay.    
  
Jon was leaving.  He had obligations to Kazooland, something they all understood.  They'd miss him, but he promised to come back and visit.    
  
"But don't miss me.  And don't stay stuck.  There's so much to see and do in the world you're in."    
  
HatchWorth was pleased with the smallest of things.  A bird outside the window would capture his attention for hours.  He loved to hear stories from Rabbit, and spend time with Spine, and make up his own music.    
  
"It is so big out here."  He had confided in Spine once.  "Everything has changed, and I want to see all that it has to offer to me."    
  
Rabbit was dying.  Spine would catch Rabbit looking hard at him for drastically long periods of time before blurting out "'M sorry, but who are you?" Then he'd wander off and have no recollection of having forgotten his brother about a half hour later.    
  
The Spine twiddled with the wire of the mouse, thinking hard over the information on the screen.    
  
' _Spine.  Don' ya get it_?' Rabbit had once asked him.  ' _Over there is great, sure.  Wif Pappy and th'others.  But the price is we lose lose ourselves_.'    
  
To be over there, where everything is perfect, where the world makes sense and there is no pain, you had to lose yourself.  HatchWorth had spent over fifty years locked away, in the dark, with no self.  And was only now able to find one.  Rabbit had so much self in him already, and it was quickly fading away.    
  
And it hurt.  Spine realized, now, after all this time pining.  That it hurt.  He had been selfish.  He had been okay with giving up what he was _here_ in order to be _there_.  And in doing so, had lost sight of what that did to others.  HatchWorth was only just now figuring out who he was, and it hurt to know that he had been gone so long.  But felt wonderful to be able to help him in this journey of discovering what "HatchWorth" meant.    
  
Rabbit was slipping through Spine's fingers.  Disappearing a little more each day.  And it hurt.  It hurt more than The Spine was able to admit when his older brother looked at him and didn't recognize him.  Or when they'd start a song and he'd stop half way through, confused and lost and not knowing where he was or what he was doing.  And it hurt that Rabbit was losing himself.    
  
You had to lose yourself to go back over there.  It had sounded wonderful, easy.  Spine never thought how much it would harm others around him.    
  
There's so much to see and do here.  Even though there is comfort and warmth and family, here is exploration and wonder and magic.    
  
The Spine took up the mouse, and clicked "Yes."  It was time for Steam Powered Giraffe to start touring again.  Time is limited for everyone.  Nothing lasts forever.  You can have a perception of what something is like, only for it to really present itself later down the road for what it truly is.  You can't live in the dark forever, wishing and hoping for the light.    
  
Sometimes, you have to go out, and make your own self before it gets taken away. 


	12. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was written by me- ruffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had this idea while talking to serif about pie

He hadn’t told him what was going on- he hadn’t told him anything, really. The Spine said he’d only be a minute, said he was just going to get some oil to fix up Rabbit’s squeaky knee, so why was it taking so long for him to come back? It had been at least ten minutes, or maybe even twenty, depending on how messed up Rabbit’s clock currently was. It was dark in there, dark enough that even his glowing photo receptors couldn’t cut through the black velvet around him.

 

He felt hands against the carefully weighted pressure plates under his metal skin, and they weren’t friendly, not at all. They were jerking him about, and they were pulling on his sensitive metal body without the slightest of care. Rabbit tried to tell them to stop, tried to make a dent in their progress by even merely distracting them with his voice, but he found that they’d stolen his vocalizer plum out of his throat, and there was no stopping them if he was bound and without a voice.

Eventually the darkness started to lift and he realized that he’d had a blind fold on. When he could see the daylight filtering in from the windows of the room he was in, his mind started to ease. That was, of course, until he saw his three younger brothers hanging limply on the wall. HatchWorth and The Jon’s eyes were out. They were both dead, as he could plainly see their pried open chests and lack of power cores. Without their S.O.U.Ls, they were no more. However, his heart seemed to swell with agony as he watched the men pry at The Spine’s chest. He shook his head, and thankfully enough some parts were loose so that they rattled inside his skull. The Horrible men looked toward Rabbit, and one of them spoke.

“Oh, looks like we’ve got a sacrifice,” the greasy man simpered, his eyes flashing dangerously in the low light of the night. Rabbit was trembling, and The Spine was shaking his head furiously. It seemed as though they’d taken his vocalizer, as well. Rabbit, as though he could hardly bare seeing them ripping open his younger brother’s chest, simply nodded and watched as they drew closer.

He thought they would rip out his power core, just as they had done to The Jon and HatchWorth, make it a painless death. No, that was not what they had in store for him, not at all. The grabbed hold of his middle alright, but it was when he couldn’t breathe that he realised what they were doing.

You see, Colonel Peter A. Walter I designed Rabbit in the pure image of a human. He had eyebrows, a flexible jaw, and bellows that cooled his brain. His brain would overheat due to being inundated with steam for long periods of time, and the Colonel hadn’t thought of proper ears until he started up on The Spine. To remedy Rabbit’s misfortune, he implemented bellows for his prototype (which, of course, was something The Spine was always jealous of), which allowed him to master the melodica quite beautifully. However, at this point in time, Rabbit was cursing his need for oxygen intake. Everything started to go blurry and his warning code started to rattle off in his head. He could barely make out The Spine’s horrified face as he fought for the air that wouldn’t enter his system. A long, high pitched beep was the signification of Rabbit’s death, for without a brain, he was no more.

The Spine wailed in soundless agony as he saw his brother fall limp on the table across from him, but that was no matter. His core was taken out shortly thereafter.


End file.
